Not Today
by Mashpotatoe Queen
Summary: There is no such thing as a stupid reason not to kill yourself. (A modern fanfic featuring depressed Legolas. Angsty, but it has a happy ending.)


**Hey guys! :) Thanks for reading this fic!**

 _ **Trigger Warnings: This fic includes thoughts on suicide, panic attacks, mentions of neglect, and depression. It's got some angsty stuff that may or may not trigger someone who is sensitive for this kind of stuff. Please don't read this fic if you might be triggered!**_

 **Not Today was inspired by this one Tumblr post that I read on pinterest. It had a lot of examples and a lot of good points that I borrowed, but it basically boiled down to this: _There is no such thing as a stupid reason not to kill yourself._ It can be something as non-climatic as wanting to listen to a new song from your favorite band or there's no one to feed the dog until next Tuesday. It doesn't have to be a dramatic life changing thing; if it keeps you alive, go for it!**

 **To all you people out there who are considering suicide or just feel depressed: PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE, please don't kill yourself. I'm begging you, I AM BEGGING YOU ON MY KNEES TO PLEASE NOT KILL YOURSELF. Life sucks, I know, but there is GOOD in this world. There are things that are worth it, _that are so very worth it_ , and there are people who care _so much_ about you. Who will die inside if you leave their life forever. I care about you, even if I have never met you in my _whole_ life, and I will be _devastated_ if I hear you died. You leave this world, there will never be another person exactly like you. You leave this world, and its over. You will never get another chance like this one, so you may as well see where this life takes you, eh? And you LISTEN TO ME, right now; by reading this, you are making me a promise not to commit suicide. Not today, and hopefully not for a long time. (As in _ever_.)**

 **You are cared for. You are loved. You are special and important and wonderful in every facet that is you.**

 **Now get out there and kick depression in the butt for me. :)**

 **If anyone reading this just wants to... talk. Or just wants some comfort. Please, PM me. I would be so happy to chat with you, or to listen, or to just be a nameless face that you can explain all the stupidness that's your life to. I honestly don't mind, and I look forward to any conversation. :)**

 **I hope you all enjoy guys, and I hope that you find your own little reasons to just keep living. Because things get better. Things will. *Hugs***

 **...**

Legolas was quiet as he rode home from school, his bag clutched tightly to his chest and his eyes fixed out the window. Because if he didn't bring any attention to himself, no one would notice him, and if no one notices him… Well, no one would notice him.

He tried to convince himself that that was a good thing.

When they got to the last stop, Legolas was the only one left on the bus. He got off and gave a small wave to the bus driver, wishing her good luck with her animals. (He sometimes talked to her in the mornings, and he knew that the woman ran a shelter for animals in her spare time.) The woman smiled brightly back at him, her nose wrinkling under her glasses, and gave her own cheery wave before driving off, her reply lost in the wind.

Legolas waited for her to vanish behind the corner before he let his hand drop to his sides. Tiredly, he pulled up his hood and shoved his hands in his pocket, walking through the long paved road that was his driveway.

It was always a long walk home.

Once he had arrived at the huge mansion, he spent several minutes trying to find his keys, which ended up being in his pocket. Then he slowly opened the door to the house, pleased to see that the main lights were on, for that normally meant his father was home.

"Ada?"

There was no response.

Frowning, Legolas dropped his bag down on the couch and headed further into the house, seeking out the kitchen, where his father usually ended up working.

"Ada, you there?"

It was then the teen spotted the note that was neatly placed in the middle of the pristine counter, and felt his heart sink just a little bit. Still, maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought? Perhaps it would just be a short trip, and his dad would be back in time for dinner?

With delicate fingers, he quickly unfolded the note, his face falling when he read the message there.

Four days. His father was going on _another_ business trip. But this time for _four days._

Swiping angrily at his eyes, the blonde crumpled the note and threw it back onto the spotless counter. Then he grabbed his bag and stormed up the stairs to his room, refusing to cry until he was hidden safely under his covers.

He had thought, that maybe… Maybe this year his dad would stay for the anniversary. That maybe they would go out and do something together. Like… eat at his mom's favorite restaurant. Or, or watch The Princess Bride, his mom had always _loved_ that movie. Or, just, _do_ … something. Together, as father and son.

But apparently it wasn't to be, and his dad had gone off to who knows where in order to distract himself.

And left Legolas behind, just as he always did.

Alone.

Forgotten.

 _Unwanted._

Legolas curled into a tighter ball, wallowing in misery and self hate.

Suddenly, there was something on his chest and a bunch of persistent mewings in his ears, and he almost smiled.

He wasn't completely alone, after all.

Slowly, as to not dislodge his furry companion, he sat up. His own blue orbs looking down and meeting intense grey.

The cat meowed again.

Legolas tried for a grin, because he didn't want to upset his feline friend with the silly nonsense of human troubles and sniffed quietly, dragging his sleeves across his eyes once more.

"H-hey there, Estel…"

His voice was scratchy and broken and far too sad for his liking, and Estel seemed to have picked up on his misery and was now purring up a storm, rubbing its soft head against the blonde's chin.

"Ye-yeah, I missed you t-too, bud."

Then Legolas laid back down, cradling his fuzzy friend in his arms and staring at the wall without seeing it, absentmindedly petting his pet as he did so.

It was days like these Legolas wondered why he even continued on.

He had no friends. His father was gone more often than not. The only person he really ever willingly talked to anymore was a random middle aged woman who drove him to-and-from school. His only companion was a _freakin' cat_ for God's sake!

And it wasn't like anyone would notice, really. His dad was always out anyways, and he was considered the quiet kid at school. People rarely paid attention to him, only the teachers when they asked him a question and perhaps Gimli, who seemed to have a personal vendetta against him. But, then again, the redhead would probably be happy to see him gone.

His pillow was getting wet again. He couldn't even cry in peace any more without being bothered in some way or another.

Perhaps, perhaps it would be for the best. For him to just vanish. He wouldn't be a bother anymore, wouldn't be the piece of worthless trash that was just taking up space. He'd be able to see his mom again, and perhaps go somewhere where everything doesn't _hurt_ so much.

A small mew interrupted his morose thoughts.

Legolas looked down at the furry grey tabby in his arms, and a frown marred his features. Because his dad wouldn't be back until Monday, and that meant no one would be able to take care of Estel. And if no one was there to take care of him, he might get sick. Or hurt. Or die.

Legolas wouldn't let that happen to his friend, not after all the years of comfort he provided.

Sighing, the blonde curled closer around his furry companion, eyes closing in exhaustion.

Perhaps, another day, he would leave this world behind and find out what happens after death. Perhaps, another day, he would embark on new adventures and finally see his mom again. Perhaps, another day…

But not today.

Not today.

* * *

Legolas stormed into the house in an angry rage, yelling and hating the world for all the idiots it had created, even as tears ran down his face.

Life sucked.

Life was suckish and stupid and filled with big-headed _morons_ who deserved to go and die a miserable death somewhere. Because they were utter idiots and had no right- NO RIGHT- to bring up sensitive topics when they were bullying people. _Especially_ not his mom.

And he was crying again. Because he was a wimp. Just as they said. And he hated it. He hated his life and he hated his house and he hated school and he hated himself and he was just so _freakin'_ tired of everything and everyone.

He ran up to the bathroom, and grabbed the pills. Because screw this. _Screw it_ _._ He wasn't going to bother with any of it anymore because it was just so pointless and stupi-

The hand was halfway to his mouth when he noticed the bright pink sticky note on the bathroom mirror.

 _Remember! We're setting up the bake sale on Thursday at three, not four like in the fliers! See you there, Leggles! :D_

Right. _Right_. He, he had promised Tauriel he'd help out with the bake sale. He was supposed to make cookies. He- he had promised.

An image of Tauriel, red hair flying in the wind as she attempted to set up the bake sale by herself and disappointed that he never showed up- even though he had _promised_ _-_ flashed through his mind, and he deflated like a balloon, the anger draining from him in the space of a few seconds.

He spilled the pills back into the bottle and went to bed, carrying a bright pink sticky note with him along the way. Once there, he stuck the message on the lamp besides him, as a reminder.

Legolas had made a promise, and it was a promise he intended to keep.

He was still hurt. Still hurt and frustrated and just a little too broken on the inside, but he couldn't go. Not yet. Tauriel needed him, and maybe she was fiery and sassy and just a little bit insane and always calling him that stupid nickname, but she was the closest thing to a friend that he had, and he wouldn't want to hurt her in any way.

So he couldn't go. Couldn't leave the world behind and find somewhere where people were understanding and kind and not insensitive jerks. Couldn't abandon this life just yet. Couldn't find what happened on the flipside.

Not yet.

Not today.

* * *

Legolas was tired all Saturday. Tired and done with everything.

But he couldn't go and be _properly_ done with everything; who would take the trash out?

And so he dragged the heavy stinking bin bags out the back door and shoved them into the large green garbage can, wondering how his father would survive once he was gone and no longer able to do all the house chores like watering the plants and taking the trash out.

Ah well, he wasn't going anywhere yet. Maybe soon, but not today.

Not today.

* * *

The alarm blared loudly and Legolas responded by curling up tighter under his covers; he didn't want to go to school. He didn't want to sit through another day of dreary classes and endless teasing and too loud classmates and silent loneliness that seemed intent on suffocating him.

He was sick and tired of feeling nothing and sick and tired of feeling too much. He was sick and tired of the world and his life and everything else that ever had to do with existing.

He didn't want it.

Perhaps today was the day. His dad could feed Estel, he could hire someone to do the chores, there was no baked goods he had to make or stupid group projects that he had to present. He was free to go and find some sort of way out now.

Solace, maybe, or peace. He didn't know what to call it, but escape from the endless tiredness he was feeling would be amazing.

Rest. Perhaps that was what he was in need of; rest. Rest that he would never have to wake up from, where no annoying alarm could shatter away the realm of his dreams.

He liked the thought of that.

He wasn't going to go and die, he was just going to go and… rest.

Blearily, Legolas stumbled down the stairs, tugging a coat around his shoulders as he did. He didn't bother too much with writing a note, few would care anyways, but he stopped as he passed by the kitchen.

His dad had gone shopping last night, he remembered, while he had been finishing up a History essay, and evidence of that was shown on the counter.

Three plastic bags. That was what stopped him from walking out the door and finding a bridge to jump off of. _Three. Plastic. Bags._

Or, more realistically, what was in those bags.

His favorite cereal.

His dad had gone out and bought his favorite cereal for him, the super sugary kind that had always made the elder roll his eyes whenever he saw Legolas eating it. His dad had gone out to the store and bought six boxes of incredibly sugary cereal without even needing to be asked.

He blinked rapidly, because he was _not_ going to start crying over something as ridiculous as cereal. He refused.

But there it was. Proof that his father knew about his likes and dislikes and cared enough to go out of his way to make him happy. Proof that his father would still let him eat the sugary cereal, even though he disapproved.

Proof that his father _cared_ _._ That his father loved him, despite his absences.

Slowly, mechanically, Legolas grabbed the milk from the fridge and poured himself a bowl of cereal, his eyes never leaving the three plastic bags that rested on the counter in front of him.

And then afterwards, he did not walk out the door and never return, he placed his dishes into the sink and went upstairs back to bed.

It would be a shame, after all, to let all that cereal go to waste.

He wasn't going to go to school. No, that was far too much of a hurdle for Legolas to handle in his deteriorating mental state, but he wouldn't go jump to his death either. He figured he had found the happy median of the two.

He curled into himself under the covers, mentally reminding himself to email the school later so that he could call in sick, and softly pet Estel. Then he tiredly closed his eyes, and fell back to sleep within minutes.

He would deal with life and all that came with it some other day. He would deal with decisions and choices another week. But not in those few quiet moments.

Not today.

* * *

Legolas sighed a little when he spotted the familiar shock of brown hair at the end of the neighbor's driveway.

The brunette had done this for the last few weeks, waiting for Legolas to arrive before making his way to the bus stop. He would talk with the blonde almost non stop, even though Legolas' answers were always short or nonexistent. It was just continuous noise, and a never-ending stream of words, the whole way to school. (The boy had taken to sitting next to him on the bus.)

The boy's name was Aragorn, and his dad was some rich doctor man who was the head of medicine and medical technology and found the cure to cancer or something of that sort. (But in reality, you had to be rich in order to live in an area like this, and so Legolas wasn't _too_ surprised.)

And it was annoying. And tiring. And not something he necessarily wanted to deal with every day so early in the morning. (And it was always somehow too early in the morning for Legolas...)

But, at the same time… he supposed that it was rather nice. Sort of. Not to be alone, to have someone to talk to- no matter how one-sided those conversations may be- to not be stuck in his thoughts with no escape.

To have something of a friend.

And in all honesty, there were days that the only reason he got up in the mornings was because he knew Aragorn was waiting for him. Because he didn't want to disappoint the strange boy who was trying so hard to be kind.

And perhaps, one day, Aragorn would realize how much of an utter failure Legolas was and stop waiting. Perhaps, one day, Legolas would walk to the end of his driveway and the familiar shock of brown hair would be nowhere in sight.

But, for now, as Aragorn told some ridiculous story about his two idiot older brothers and somehow made him manage a semblance of a smile, as he saw the other boy practically _beam_ in response to the quirk of his lips, as he walked on with his chatty companion and sunk deeper into the quiet folds of growing friendship, he would keep waking up every morning and he would keep on living, two silent words a growing mantra in his head.

 _Not today._

 _Not today._

 _Not today._

* * *

Legolas slammed his head onto the bathroom door with a solid thunking noise. His breath was coming too fast, far too fast, and their wasn't enough air in the tiny stall but there was no way in _hell_ that he was going to go out into the crowded hallways where he would be surrounded by people and eyes and far too many bad things.

He didn't like crowds, and he didn't like panic attacks.

He needed to calm down. He needed to calm down, right there, in those few moments. He needed to, but he couldn't, and there _wasn't enough freakin' air_ and was the room spinning? It felt like it was spinning.

Oh. He was sitting on the toilet now, but that didn't matter, it didn't matter, because the walls were _too close_ and the air was _too thin_ and his heart was racing far too fast to be healthy but it didn't matter- _it didn't matter_ \- because there was something wrong and _what was wrong?_

He didn't know.

 _He didn't know._

 _Why didn't he know?_

His breath was scraping against his throat with every harsh inhale and his legs were shaking, but he somehow managed to stand and unlock the stall door, taking a few wavering steps to the sinks before turning the faucet on, splashing the cold water on his face.

 _Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm-down, calmdown, youhavetocalmdownnow_ right now _, anyone can walk in and calmdowncalmdowncalmdown._

He didn't calm down.

His legs gave out from underneath him once more, and this time he didn't even bother trying to stand up, instead curling into himself and just attempting to _breathe_. But there was no air- _no air-_ and he was left a ball of shaking, panicky mess on the bathroom floor.

A part of his mind registered that the door to the restroom opened and closed, and a part of his mind registered the gruff worried curses that filled the room, and a part of him was screaming at the heavens for his horrid luck.

But everything else was far too busy panicking and being anxious and freaking out and _trying to get air_ and _not listening to his brain_ for him to care too much.

And then there was someone squatting down next to him and there was a voice filtering through his ears. And he knew that voice. _He knew it_ , and if he could just be struck down dead right in that moment, he would be extremely grateful.

"Ya okay there, Blondie?

Because that voice belonged to one Gimli Durinson. Gimli Durinson, who seemed to hate Legolas' guts, who made every little thing into a competition, who would grumble and scowl whenever they were paired up together. _That_ Gimli Durinson. And now he was right there, watching Legolas when he was weak and pathetic and couldn't even _pretend_ to be strong.

And maybe he would have been more mortified, but his body wasn't really under his control at the moment and he was _far_ too busy jerking away as far as possible when something suddenly touched his back.

His head swung to face the threat under its own accord,and his own watery blue eyes met the deep brown ones of Gimli's, who was in the process of hastily retreating his hand. The other boy looked concerned and worried and more than a little bewildered, but he ducked his head again before he could get a closer look.

 _Jesus, why was it so hard to breathe?_

Gimli was cursing more now, and had scooched closer so that he was next to him once more. But he made sure not to touch, that he had his space, and some little part of his brain was able to be thankful for that small mercy.

"Christ, Blondie, your breathing kind of fast there… You uh, you should slow down. Uh- uh, breathe with me, yeah?"

Gimli attempted to lead him through some kind of breathing exercise, but he quickly realized that it wasn't working, and so he soon came to a stop. From there he tried to say a bunch of random comforting things, most of which were completely non relevant to the situation, but Legolas worked on focusing on the nervous jumbled words rather than his own frantically beating heart.

And it worked, sort of.

His heart was still far too fast and his breathing was still far too fast- _everything was far too fast-_ and anxiety was crawling up and down his nerves like ants and panic was just around the corner.

But it was better than before, and for that he was grateful.

"Uh, just, just keep breathing, okay? You're gunna be fine, uh, yeah… I suck at this, I- ummm."

And Legolas laughed.

It was a weak sort of thing, strangled and choked and raw, but there it was. Gimli blinked, obviously surprised, but then he grinned.

"Find that funny, do yah?"

Legolas let out a strange hiccup-like thing, and then broke down into hysterical giggles once more. This time, Gimli joined in with him, although the other boy seemed to have no idea what they were laughing about.

And in all honesty, he didn't really know either.

"Are you… okay?"

The question was awkward- _painfully awkward_ \- and only came after several moments of silence, but it was sincere, and so he nodded and gave the best smile he could.

Gimli looked at him, eyebrows furrowed and and a strange expression on his face.

"And if I don't believe you?"

His smile faltered.

The redhead looked at him some more, his eyes intense and narrowed, and Legolas was almost afraid that whatever strange bond had happened between them in those last few minutes had vanished, or that it had been some act.

But then Gimli stood and offered him a hand, helping Legolas up from his seated position. The other offered him a grin, which he tried to return, and then gestured to the door.

"You ready to go out?"

He looked nervously to the door, but nodded anyways, because he didn't want to be a hassle, at least, not anymore than he already was.

"We can wait a few minutes, if ye want…"

And Legolas hesitated, but then he nodded once more, deciding that a few minutes more couldn't hurt.

Later, Gimli would introduce him to his friends- Aragorn just so happened to be one, and was _ecstatic_ when he saw the blonde- who would somehow become his own friends. Later, he would wake up one morning and realize that he was excited for the day, that it wasn't an utter chore to get out of bed and live. Later, he would have times where he felt _happy_.

And he wasn't whole. He wasn't perfect or magically cured; he would have his bad days. He would feel depressed and angry at the world sometimes, and that was okay. _That was okay._

And later, much later, _Not today_ would become a thing of memory, for life was today and death was something he could learn to wait for. Because he had found some reasons worth living for in this life of his, and somehow things looked brighter for the future.

Because things got better, they really _did_ , little by little. And he didn't want to give it up. He didn't want to say goodbye. He wanted to live, and he didn't want to let go of all those wonderful memories that he had made, and all those wonderful memories that were to come.

And he wasn't planning on leaving.

 _Not today._

And not for a long time.

 **...**

 **"When you feel like giving up,**

 **Just remember the reason why you held on for so long."**

 **– Unknown**

 **...**

 **And there you have it folks! :D**

 **Huge Thank you to any and all reviewers, favoriters, and followers. You guys are FANTABULOUS!**

 **I hope you all enjoyed this story, and I hope you all live wonderful lives where you find happiness and joy. :)**

 **-The Mashpotatoe Queen**


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